Discharge

Havoc was not going back to the military. Truthfully, it was a fact that Havoc had known for a long time. He'd gone well past ordinary clearance, been dumped headfirst into things no one should know. This wasn't even on a need to know basis. This was somewhere beyond that, in a land with dragons and fairies.

Once you went that far, there was no going back.

Even so, he'd denied it. A rare type of self-denial he hadn't quite gotten used to. He'd recognized it as denial. He'd recognized the truth. And yet he'd continued to carry on as if he was actually going back to the US army at the end of the year.

Just a year, they'd said.

It was a sure sign of how much the military had meant to him.

But with the letter in his hand, there could be no more denial. He was not going back. He wasn't the sort to sit around and be upset about things, but it was the kick he needed to get himself moving.

If he wasn't going back, he was going to do something with his life on the island. That meant not sitting around in pointless classes he didn't care about. It meant doing something, and that something was scouting.

He'd found the scouts wing easily enough, but he hadn't gone through any formal process. He'd just asked the first person he saw if there was a scout in who wasn't presently doing anything, and then they'd sent him over to a specific office.

Asger Kleonidas, the name tag read. An entirely foreign name that carried no familiarity to Havoc. What was it. Greek? Norse? The last name was almost Leonidas, but the K...

Well, Havoc wasn't the sort of person who'd wait around hesitating, so he simply knocked at the door without any introduction.

Havoc was not smiling, but then he was never smiling. He perpetually looked like he was about to have a serious conversation with someone, even if he was only discussing what was for lunch.

He hadn't announced himself or scheduled anything, so he was genuinely surprised when the man in front of him - Sir Kleonidas, apparently - let him in so easily.

Maybe he was just more paranoid then most.

He returned the handshake with a firm and practiced one of his own. He would have preferred a salute, but he'd mostly fallen into the civilian way of life after a very small amount of time. Salutes got odd looks, and the less he was considered odd, the better it would be for his career.

"My name is James Havoc - I was told you were a senior member of the scouting department and I had some questions if you have the time to answer them."

A bit overly formal, but Havoc was doing his best not to come on too strong.

Even if he probably was.